Lost Daughter
by PrincessXofXtheXLabyrinth
Summary: Well, I actually plan to do 2 stories involving Sherlock having a Daughter. This is the first. When Sherlock finds he has a daughter in an orphanage, he takes responsibility as the child-genius's father. Obvious O.C., but she is NOT BASED ON ME OR MY WAY OF ECOMING PART OF THE STORY!
1. Lost

**Authors note: okay, so the prologue kinda sucks, but I promise the rest will be much better! I've always loved the idea of Sherlock having a lost daughter. Tell me if you like it or tell me if it sucks, and that will help me decide to keep updating or not. PLEASE review X3**

**Thanks~**

…**...**

Lestrade hadn't gotten a call from his niece in months, despite how close they were, so when Malinda suddenly called the DI up begging for his help, he was quiet surprised. And it wasn't because the call was so sudden. No, it was because she sounded so flustered. Malinda was a nurse at the London Orphanage, and she was always the calm and collected sort. She never panicked, especially when it was about the kids at the shelter. There was one other thing about this particular call that bothered the detective: she had asked about Sherlock Holmes, whom she had only met once. And very briefly, at that.

"Uncle Greg, you...um..remember that consultant guy you introduced me to last year at the Christmas party? Sh-...uh...Sher- something?" Malinda stuttered. "Yeah? Well, uh, there's a new girl at the shelter. I'm just not sure what to do. Could you please drop by sometime soon and check her out, please? You're the smartest person I know and this is just...abnormal. You can? That's great! Thank you so much. I didn't have anyone else to turn to. Yeah? Yes. Thank you. Love you, Uncle Greg. Bye."

Lestrade hung up worried, puzzled, and excited all at the same time. He'd never met a child his niece couldn't handle. No, she spoke as if this child had two heads or a fish tail. If it got Malinda worked up, it was big. And thinking this way made him feel a bit too much like the neighborhoods own Consulting Detective for him to be comfortable.

Due to a particularly transparent case in which a woman had shot her husband and child to death before taking her own life, a case so simple even Anderson was able to figure it out quickly enough, the Inspector was not able to visit the children shelter until the following weekend. It was only a twenty minute drive from his home to the orphanage, and when he got there he was greeted by a tired and shaky looking Malinda. The young woman's face brightened with a broad smile at the sight of her favorite (and only) uncle. Her hair was unkempt and there were shadows under her eyes. Whoever this child was, Lestrade thought, they were amazingly horrible.

"Oh, thank God, Uncle Greg. You're here!" the nurse exclaimed, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug.

Lestrade pushed her back and held her away by the shoulders so he could take a good look at her. "My God...did the new kid do this to you? What? Is she evil incarnate?" he mused in awe.

Malinda nodded but then swayed her hand back and forth. "Well, technically she is the cause of this-" she said, gesturing to her appearance, "but not directly. She isn't really a problem on her own. It's the other kids' reactions to her that does it." she explained.

Seeing the confusion plain on Lestrade's face, she took him by the hand and started to lead him inside. "I'll show you what I mean." she told him. She lead him through the noisy shelter, full of the sounds of laughter, crying, yelling, and singing.

A small red-headed child slammed into Malinda with tears in his eyes and sobbed, "Nurse! Armelia took my band-aid off and my scrape is still bleeding, and she wont give it back!" Malinda groaned and pat the child on his head, assuring him that she would get him a new band-aid soon. "So Nickie punched her." he added before darting away.

"Wha-? No hitting!" she yelled after him, shaking her head in disapproval.

When they reached a door with the name Armelia painted on it in swirly purple script, Malinda paused and took a deep breath before knocking lightly.

"One moment!" a musical little voice quickly blurted from behind the door. A moment later, a lithe little girl with coal black curls that bounced around her waist and striking green eyes burst out of the room and swiftly slammed the door behind her.

Malinda was looking at the child in horror, much to Lestrade's surprise, and with good reason. The child was wearing an apron over her plain little black dress and it was covered in strange purple stains, and on her hands were latex gloves, wet with most likely the same purple liquid that was on the apron. And on her right cheek was a little bruise.

"Armelia, what in god's name have you been doing in there this time?" the usually docile nurse blurted.

Instead of answering, the child simply sneered at her and turned her cold green eyes on the detective. They darted all over, inspecting the inspector, and finally settled on his left hand. Slowly, she pulled the glove off of her right hand and extended it to him.

"Nice to meet you Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade. My name is Armelia. I would be the troublesome child that the nurse has called you over for." she said flatly, as if she was bored.

Amazed, Lestrade shook her tiny hand, but paused when he saw something like a big band-aid stuck to her arm. When he realized what it was, his mouth hung agape and his eyes became impossibly wide.

"Are those nicotine patches?" he asked her disbelieving. Armelia nodded as if it was completely normal.

"They help me focus." she explained with a nonchalant shrug. "I was measuring the liquid extract from a deadly nightshade flower, so I had to be very precise so that the solution didn't turn lethal."

Malinda gasped and pressed her head into her hands. "Armelia! I've told you over and over again that you can't keep poisonous things in the shelter! It's a danger to the other kids." she cried exasperatedly.

"And that is exactly why I have my own room. It's perfectly safe. Now can you get on with what you brought him here for so I can get back to my own business?" Armelia snapped back defiantly, crossing her pale, thin arms across her chest.

Malinda threw her hands up in defeat and shook her head mournfully. "You're right. Let's get this over with. Uncle Greg, I was wondering-"

"She thinks that there is a possibility that you are acquainted with my father." Armelia interrupted quickly.

Malinda twitched with irritation, but nodded confirmation. "There is no record of Armelia's father, and a DNA is not avaiable for a case such as this. But she has a remarkably similar appearance and personality to that Sherlock Holmes man, so I just thought it was a possibility and was hoping you could help me check it." she explained. "Of course, it could just be a coincidence. Maybe I shouldn't have asked." she added in a rush.

At first the idea seemed ridiculous to Lestrade, but after he thought about if for a second it started to seem a bit more possible. Even after knowing him for five years, Lestrade knew next to nothing about Sherlock's past, and the child was incredibly similar to the Consulting Detective. Plus, even if she wasn't his kid, the inspector was sure that Sherlock would find this little girl too interesting to completely ignore. It was worth a shot.

"It's possible." he admitted, noticing Armelia's eyes light up a little despite how she kept her expression stoic and bored. " I can call him up if you'd like." he offered.

"Yes!" the orphan girl and nurse exclaimed together. Armelia glared at Malinda in annoyance, and Malinda stared at Armelia in surprise. She had probably never seen the cold little girl so enthusiastic about anything before. The truth was that Armelia hated the shelter, and wanted out no matter what it took, but running away would cause serious inconveniences to her. Plus, while she had loved her mother, it was obvious that she must have gotten her intellect from her father. The prospect of meeting him was exciting, no matter how unlikely it was.

"How old are you, Armelia?" the detective asked. For her to be Holmes's daughter, she couldn't be any older than 13.

"I am eleven years old." she answered. Although it shocked Lestrade to no end that an eleven year old girl was mixing poisonous herbal solutions in her room, her age fit. It meant that Sherlock would have had to have been eighteen years old when Armelia was concieved.

"And how old was you mother?" he pressed.

"She was thirty-six," she sighed, "and she died five months ago in a car accident while coming to pick me up from school."

No tears burned in her eyes and she didn't flinch in painful grief. She was as ice cold as her chilling eyes, and as unfeeling as the great Sherlock Holmes. But in truth, her heart did ache a little at the ever present abssence of the only person that had ever been by her side.

Lestrade knew it was a long shot, but it was worth a try. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and sighed deeply, trying to hide his grin.

"Alright." he decided and pulled out his mobile phone. He dialed a number and pressed it to his ear. When someone finally answered he smiled and stuck his free hand into his pocket.

"John! Tell Sherlock that I have a different kind of case for him this time, would you? Come to the London Children Shelter tomorrow at noon, and be prepared for a bit of a shock. Alright, thanks. Goodbye." he spoke to the person on the other end of the phone. When he hung up and pushed his phone back into his coat pocket, he turned to the two girls, both watching him expectantly, and grinned widely.

"Ladies, tomorrow be prepared to meet Sherlock Holmes, the worlds only Consulting Detective, and Dr. John Watson, the only man in the world that can handle him." he said with amusement. Inside, he wished Armelia luck.


	2. Meet Me

**Sorry it took this long to update. Work and such. I hope you all like this one. It was a pain in the arse to write :/ …. :D Review and Rate if you want me to write more PRETTY PLEASE!**

**p.s.- I'm going to do a Labyrinth fic while writing this, so if you like Labyrinth you may find that I am a much better writer when it comes to fantasy XP Thanks!**

…**...**

John thought Sherlock would have been ecstatic to hear from Lestrade. A "different kind of case" sounded, to him, to be a rather exciting description. Apparently, though, Sherlock was seeing something he wasn't about this. As usual.

As soon as John had hung-up with the Scotland Yarder and told Sherlock of their next case, the Consulting Detective's expression had turned steely, his lips pressed in a thin line and his brow furrowed, and he had picked up his violin and gone into one of those...moods. Even now, as they rode to the children shelter in silence, he seemed lost in his thoughts. It almost worried John but, well, that was Sherlock after all.

When they arrived, Sherlock moved mutely to meet Lestrade at the front doors, leaving the doctor to pay the cab fee. John could see the two detectives discussing something, Lestrade with a grin and Sherlock with frustration. Once he had made it over to them, he only heard the last of the conversation.

" I'm not saying anything like that. Just trust me for a second." Lestrade urged his "friend". Sherlock looked impatient and put-out. John rolled his eyes with a sigh and grabbed the taller man's arm. Sherlock looked down at him with a scowl, which he returned with a knowing glance.

He nodded toward Lestrade. "Lead the way."

The inspector lead them to a nurses office at the far end of the building. The three grown men looked quiet the sight, having to force their way through the mob of loud children that ran about the shelter. Lestrade left the two out in the hallway as he went in to fetch the nurse, his niece, Malinda. The young woman had a nasty purple bruise over her left eye, which she had obviously tried covering with makeup, only to make it look worse.

"What happened to you?" Lestrade blurted, frowning at the bruise.

"She (I) was punched." Sherlock and Malinda said at the same time. Malinda looked at the man and gave a little laugh, and he rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, I guess Armelia said something to one of the boys, and it started a fight. I got hit in the crossfire when I came to pull him off of her. She got it worse, of course." she explained, wincing at the last part as if sympathizing with the child's pain.

"Who is..?" John began, only to be interrupted. By Lestrade. "Armelia is the one you are here to see." he said with a mischievous grin. "And if you thought Sherlock was hard to handle, you have no idea."

The mentioned detectives head snapped up in alertness, and he raised a brow inquisitively. Malinda beckoned the men to follow as she lead them to the kid's room. When they reached the door marked with the swirly purple name painted on it, the nurse paused right before knocking.

From the other side of the door, a light, airy voice could be heard singing, the sound like a silver bell. The song was soft and sad, and sounded pleading, like a prayer.

_"On a small little shore, where the giant big waves roll_

_ I walk there alone, my feet cold and sore_

_ There's a secret I know, from a long, long time_

_ About this sea of woes_

_ Write your wish on paper and fold it in half_

_ In a little bottle it goes_

_ Give it to the sea, and someday you see_

_ Your dreams bloom like a rose_

_ Float away with the sea, glass bottle full of dreams_

_ In the dark of the night bring a faint white gleam_

_ On the brink of the sky, along with the waves_

_ Silently fading away_

_ You were always there for me, no matter how absent my pleas_

_ You've given me your all, but I didn't see_

_ I was spoilot, I was never glad, never happy with what I had_

_ I wonder if you've ever gotten mad_

_ Now I am alone, with no one left to hold_

_ Far away from the world I once knew_

_ You're not here with me, so I'll leave it to the sea_

_ To tell you how much I miss you_

_ Float away with the sea, tears full of regret_

_ Looking down I only see my own silhouette_

_ Why do we only realize our sins, when everything's come to an end?_

_ Float away with the sea, glass bottle full of dreams_

_ In the dark of the night bring a faint white gleam_

_ On the brink of the sky, along with the waves_

_ Silently fading away_

_ Float away with the sea, tears full of regret_

_ Looking down I only see my own silhouette _

_ And if somehow we can be reborn again_

_ Let us live together once more, until the very end_

Malinda's eyes grew wide and she stood frozen, her hand still raised to knock but not doing so. The voice had been quiet, and they wouldn't have heard it if they hadn't been listening. But they had been, and they did. For the whole five months that Armelia had been at the shelter, the nurse had never once seen her express any real emotion.

Lestrade put his hand on his stunned niece's shoulder and reached past her to knock. A startled gasp was heard, followed by several crashing sounds, before the eleven-year-old genius girl burst from the room. She tripped in her hurry, and tumbled right into Sherlock's grasp. The raven haired man just barely caught the equally raven haired child before she fell. Her coal black curls were tied back with a delicate silver ribbon and she was wearing the same plain black spaghetti-strapped dress as the day before, minus the poison stained apron.

She quickly righted herself and stared up at the man, her eyes darting all over, inspecting him. She then turned her gaze to John, and did the same to him. Giving Malinda and Lestrade a quick nod of acknowledgement, she snapped her attention back to Sherlock.

" Holmes, my name is Armelia. Did you or did you not have a sexual experience with a woman named Christine Daae* when you were between the ages of seventeen and nineteen?" she asked, getting right to the point.

The consulting Detective's eyes widened and his lips parted slightly, as if finally realizing something that had been evading him. He looked down on the girl, who looked so very much like him, and considered her. She was just like him, but he could sense that they were almost opposites. He the left-brained detective, and she the obviously right-brained, alternative genius. A miniature Sherlock Holmes, with the innocence of a child and the creativity of a...female.

As the man before her, her possible father, examined her, she was also doing the same. He fit. They were simply too similar, physically and intellectually, to not be related. However, there were things about him that made Armelia's stomach churn with disgust. He was arrogant to an extreme, saw himself as the god of his own universe, and yet needed the reassurance of his blonde friend to with himself as a human, not a freak. He was a frickin' enigma, and it infuriated and intrigued the child, all at the same time.

Finally, he spoke. "Yes, I did."

…...

Author's Note: so...cliffy! :D Armelia has finally met her father, and it's Sherlock Holmes! Good for her. But...that part was obvious, huh? The real question now is what does it mean? Can Sherlock be the father Armelia needs? And how will John take this situation?

Anyways, I'll update soon. Please Review and rate :3

* yes, I used the name from Phantom of the Opera, because it's a pretty name and I want Armelia to love to sing. Secretly...so Chritine Daae it is. It'll only show up once, so no biggie!


	3. Parts of Me

**Phew! A quick update. This chapter feels so much better than the last, and was much easier to write. I really hope you enjoy, and please rate and REVIEW! 3 thank you. **

…**...**

_Yes, I did. _

Three simple words could change Armelia's life. She could leave, and have a home. But...

"Now I know," she drawled in a bored tone, backing away from her...father. "That's all I wanted. You can leave now."

And with _those _simple words, she left the group and locked her door behind her, leaving them all stunned. Images were flooding Armelia's mind, reminding her of the things she'd seen of family and sentiment. It changed her mind. Sentiment was a weakness. Her mom's death taught her that. She'd thought...maybe...that she could get out of here. Meet the genius that had created her, and be free to experiment and learn as she wanted. But her brain knew. It was shouting warning signs at her from the moment she stumbled out of the room and saw the pale eyes that matched her's. They were just alike. They'd make quiet a pair, get attached, like she had with her mother and like he had with his blogger...but they did dangerous things, and eventually one of them would get hurt. One of them would die.

Armelia had lost one person. She didn't plan on doing it again. So he could go now,before he got to her, and leave her to her life. Her question had been answered. That was enough.

Back outside, there was chaos. Lestrade looked to Malinda for answers, but she could only return his baffled expression. John was conflicted, half confused and blank, half angry. What the hell had just happened? Sherlock, for once, had also been a bit shocked for a moment, though he would never admit to it. Still, he was able to deduce her change of heart quickly enough.

And for once...so was John. And that is where the chaos started.

"If that is all, then we shall be going. John, come." Sherlock said, walking away before the doctor even acknowleged him.

Getting past the initial shock that Sherlock was not a virgin (as was popular belief), the ex-army doctor's arm shot out and grabbed his friend's sleeve, pulling him back with a sharp yank. The consulting Detective stumbled back, and glared at his blogger.

"What the hell, Sherlock! You can't just leave like that. That is, no matter the current situation, your child! Your flesh and blood! You can't just leave her here as if nothing just happened." John was positively livid. His parents had died when he was thirteen, shot for the paper in their wallets, and if Harry hadn't just turned eighteen, he would have been sent to a place just like this. He had always been afraid of that, until he, too, was legally an adult.

The raven-haired man raise an eyebrow in question. "She said herself that we should go. Isn't it the kinder thing to do, to obey her plea?"

John shook his head. "No, Sherlock, that is not kind. She is just a kid. This is no place for her to live." he tried to explain, casting an apologetic glance to Malinda, who waved it off.

Sherlock sneered in distaste. "What do you expect me to do then, John? Raise the child? Me? Any common fool could see how bad of an idea that is."

John threw his hands up exasperatedly and laughed humorlessly. "Call Mycroft! I'm sure he could do something for her. Or maybe Molly would take her in. Something!" He was loosing the little patience he had held on to until now.

Back in the room, Armelia was sitting against the door, listening to the adults argue and humming to herself, while swirling a deep violet liquid around in a vial. Poison was her favorite of all sciences. It mixed creativity with chemistry. And as she listened (they were apparently talking with someone on the phone now) and gazed into the deadly concoction, she let her mind wander. Her curly black hair, her pale eyes, her ivory skin and high cheekbones,and, most importantly, her mind. She had gotten it all from him. Sherlock Holmes. Part of her, a very dangerous, impulsive part of her, was intrigued and excited by the thought of living with such a person and working with him. Oh, what she could learn! Then surely the boredom and...well, loneliness that always haunted her would finally go away. But the other part of her, the logical, solitary, and largely dominant part of her, dismissed the idea with a mental scowl. Honestly, what horrors could come from such-...

But she never got to finish that thought, because the door suddenly opened behind her, sending her falling backwards. She just barely avoided dropping the vial of poison all over Detective Lestrade's shoes by twisting about and quickly slamming her palm over the open top of the container. With a sigh of relief, she glared up at the group of adults. The blond man and Lestrade were both beaming down at her. Malinda looked completely lost. And Sherlock Holmes looked like he wanted to slam his head repeatedly into the nearest wall, scrunching his eyes closed and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Pushing herself off the floor, and noticing with growing irritation that the ribbon that had been tying her hair back had undone itself and left her hair loose, she fixed an inquisitive, frustrated gaze on the lot of them. The blond man glanced at her father, then extended his hand to her.

"My name is Doctor John Watson. I'm Sherlock's flatmate." he said, shaking her petite hand politely.

"Armelia Daae." She returned, liking the doctor for some reason. Natural charm, she supposed.

John smiled widely at her. "Well, Armelia, a children shelter is no place for a child to live. If you really don't want to, we understand, but our friend Molly Hooper would love to have you stay with her for awhile. She works at the mortuary and Sherlock often visits, to work on some of his cases. It would be much better than living here."

Armelia blinked slowly. She could leave? Leave AND not have to live with her exciting but dangerous newly-discovered father? She could have a friend. And, if she was being perfectly honest with herself, she wanted one.

"I'd love to." she blurted before she had even thought it completely through, a little too quickly. "I mean, I would love to stay with for a while." she repeated more steadily. And she fought, oh, she fought, to keep the smile she that threatened her stoic expression from giving her away.

…...

Author's note: :D Haha! Weren't expecting that, were you? Anyways, I figure this kind of situation will prove to be far more interesting, developmental, and entertaining to the reader than a simple "she goes to live with daddy" thing. Don't worry, Sherlock and Armelia will have plenty of time spent together. Thank you so much, my readers :)


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